


A Heat Wave

by brevitas



Series: Not the Face! [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern AU, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:10:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Amis figure out who's behind Grantaire's sudden illness but the only way to combat it is to keep him warm. Thus Enjolras finds himself naked many times over the course of the day in an effort to keep him alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heat Wave

Grantaire wakes up disoriented.

He stares at a faceless gold ceiling and blinks once, slowly. He's very hot, he realizes belatedly, but he's too tired to roll away from the source, and at first he struggles just to make sense of where he is.

Suddenly Enjolras' face invades his vision and he blinks again, confused, but the blonde seems to truly be there. He looks relieved. "Grantaire," he says. "You're awake."

Everything looks terribly dreamy, the edges of Enjolras' form bleary. The colors of the room are smudged, the shadows pulled like taffy across the ceiling. "No," Grantaire croaks. "I'm definitely not."

Enjolras frowns at him. "What do you mean?" He asks, scooting forward. Grantaire suddenly becomes very aware that he's completely naked and he produces a dry, coughing laugh.

"You're naked," he manages, blinking rapidly as a sleepy smile curls his mouth. "This must be a dream, or I'm dead and this is heaven."

Enjolras actually blushes. Grantaire is fascinated with the sudden blossoms of color, so very red against his golden skin. "You're sick," Enjolras says slowly. He sounds tinny and Grantaire sees rising up behind him his mother, her skin deathly pale.

"Grantaire," she calls softly, extending a hand. "Come back to me, child."

"Okay," Grantaire mumbles and blindly stretches a hand out to her. Enjolras is saying something and when Grantaire doesn't respond, begins shouting, but as soon as their fingertips brush Grantaire is gone.

His dreams are cluttered, he thinks, and he can't quite keep them straight. There's something wrong with his mother (she keeps calling him by the wrong name; he was not Grantaire at birth, and the word sits foreign between them) but he does his best to save her. Always it is something different but always it is cold. In the last dream frost creeps along the floor and bites at his skin but she's been gutted and he's far too preoccupied to notice its unwelcome touch.

When he wakes up next his teeth are chattering and he's weightless. He realizes he's in a tub full of water but the water is cold and he shudders, trying to wrap his arms around his chest. They're incredibly hard to move; he manages only a few inches and gives up with a long sigh.

He becomes slowly aware of Joly and Enjolras standing above him. They haven't noticed his consciousness and are talking in low voices, each of their expressions pinched with worry that is alien to Grantaire.

"His body is cooling the water," Joly is saying. "I can't keep it hot."

Enjolras is wearing a robe that is such a fierce shade of red that it's difficult for Grantaire to look away from. He wonders what it's made out of. "Tell me what to do," Enjolras demands. "He saved me once and I will not let him die now."

"Get in with him," Joly says and then glances at Grantaire, and widens his eyes when he realizes the immortal is looking steadily back at him. "Grantaire," he says, kneeling at his side. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he sighs. Goosebumps pimple his arms and he adds, "Cold."

Enjolras loosens the belt of his robe and tells Joly, "Help me move him," but he's gone again before either can touch him.

His mother looks haggard, he thinks, and different, though in a way that he can't quite put his finger on. She's making him a sandwich now and her hands are bloody. "You sure are a fiery thing," she's saying, laughing. Grantaire is sitting on the floor again but now he's an adult. He looks curiously down at his hands and frowns.

"I never knew you like this," he says slowly. His mother turns to look at him, her blue eyes hard. "You died when I was still a child." He climbs shakily to his feet and finds his body is slow to respond, sluggish when it finally does. It reminds him of the few times he's died from poison, that terrible dawning understanding that your body is shutting down and there's nothing you can do.

Grantaire asks, "What is this?" and his mother smiles but it does not look like her. She never had so many teeth. "Who are you?"

"I'm your mother, Grantaire," she says sweetly, approaching him, and he takes a few stumbling steps back.

"My mother never called me Grantaire," he spits back. Anger warms his body and makes it easier to think, to remember. "I'm dreaming but I can't stay awake. You're doing this somehow, whoever you are."

His mother sighs and leans her hip against the counter. "Tsk tsk, Grantaire," she says, looking at him from under her lashes. "It's so much easier when you don't fight."

But there's heat in the room now and it chases the chill from his bones, ignites his nerves and erases the frost from the tile underfoot. His mother looks concerned and then her appearance wavers, flickers, disappears; in her stead is a young man who looks terribly disappointed.

"Motherfucker," he growls. He's tall and leggy, dressed in a black suit that's cut to accentuate his narrow form and wearing a tophat that on anyone else would be silly. He looks stylish instead and completely out of place in Grantaire's old kitchen, from so long ago. "I almost had you."

Grantaire stares incredulously at him. He's handsome in a dangerous sort of way, appealing like the flash of a knife's edge in the dark. "Who are you?" He repeats and gathers that delicious warmth around him, wrapping himself in it like a shawl. "How the fuck do I get out of this?"

The man chuckles and it gives Grantaire the distinct impression of fur rubbing along his bare skin. He shudders, uneasy, and the man laughs harder, sounding delighted.

"This is a dream," he says. "And I _was_ eating all of that _delicious_ life force of yours until that damn Apollo butted in." He tuts. "I'm afraid I'll have to let you go, just this once."

Grantaire frowns at him, folding his arms across his chest. "Are you some sort of supervillain?" He asks and the man grins, lighting up.

"Phobia," he introduces, sweeping his arm behind him when he bows. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Grantaire. I have never fed from someone with so much energy." His eyes spark and he purrs, "You are particularly delicious."

Grantaire stares incredulously at him. "You eat people's life force?" He asks and Phobia smirks. "You were trying to kill me."

Phobia lifts both his hands in a placating manner. "Now, now, Grantaire," he chastises. "I have never seen a member of Les Amis undefended and it was much too much of a lure for me to simply pass by. You are as much to blame for this as I."

Grantaire snorts. "Let me out of this," he demands, "And I might forget it ever happened."

Phobia laughs again and Grantaire hates the reaction he gives but he can't help himself; it's sexual in nature, and he's practiced it until it is as much of a weapon as the rest of his facade. "Know that I am only releasing you because I am full," he warns. "And if I catch you with your pants down again I will finish the job."

"Yeah well fuck you, buddy," Grantaire bites. "I'd like to see you--"

He wakes up very hot and all that energy he'd borrowed in his dreams slips away. His shoulders sag and stares down at water that is bubbling around him, unsure if he's now dreaming of being boiled alive.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras asks worriedly and he looks up to find the blonde staring at him. Enjolras is sitting between his knees and they're scrunched together in necessity but Enjolras is as naked as Grantaire is, and he becomes first aware of all their bare skin that is slicked together.

"Hmm," he says, because he doesn't think he can manage anything intelligible right now. Apparently that is a terrible choice as Enjolras leans forward to try and hear him and his thigh carelessly brushes Grantaire's groin when he shifts. Grantaire flinches but his body is too weak to shy back, so Enjolras mistakes it for pain and comes even closer.

"Grantaire?" He repeats. His eyes are very blue this close, Grantaire notices. "We figured out what's wrong with you and you need to stay awake, alright?"

Grantaire thinks he manages a nod and Enjolras gives him a relieved smile so he supposes he did. "Are you feeling better now?"

"I think I'm dead," Grantaire rasps. Enjolras looks at him in concern. "There's an angel smiling at me."

Enjolras blushes like he did before and Grantaire finds it just as beautiful but this time he puts it to memory; he memorizes the way the color flushes under his skin and how Enjolras seems to have a bad habit of touching his teeth to his bottom lip when he's uncomfortable. Grantaire thinks it's adorable.

"You're not dead," Enjolras says, though he apparently thinks Grantaire feels good enough because he scoots back and stands. Grantaire stares at the way water runs down his body, chasing rivulets over skin that begs to be touched. He steps out of the tub and picks up a towel, wrapping it elegantly around his body. "Phobia was feeding off your life energy but Combeferre has assured me he's gone."

The bubbles ebb away in the water and Grantaire tries to wiggle his fingers and toes, performing the same body check he always does every time he wakes up alive. "I can't hear him," he says, glancing up at Enjolras. At his confused look he amends, "Combeferre."

Enjolras is silent for a minute, apparently conferring about this with the telepath in question. "He says you're still weak." He stops, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Really, Ferre?" and then sighs as he looks back at Grantaire.

"Apparently I'm supposed to sleep with you tonight," he says, using the edge of the towel to dry his arms off. "Ferre told me my heat was what saved you last time and he doesn't want a repeat of what just happened."

Grantaire can tell Enjolras isn't very enthused about this sleeping arrangement. He tries to stand, finds he can't get his legs underneath him, and pitches forward, tripping over the lip of the tub. Enjolras catches him and Grantaire hangs bonelessly in his arms, laughing against his toweled chest. "Christ," he says. "I feel like I've been poisoned."

Enjolras guides him to the toilet and helps him sit down, then faces him with a frown. "Combeferre says he isn't sure how long you might feel like this." He tilts his head and adds, sounding almost guilty, "I don't mind sleeping with you, Grantaire."

Grantaire snorts but he's grinning. "I'll keep to my half of the bed," he swears, flexing his hands and seeing how long it takes for the fingers to curl up after the thought. He looks up t Enjolras and says seriously, "I appreciate you helping me, Enjolras. I will not forget this."

Enjolras allows a slight smile and he's about to say something when the bathroom door bangs open. "Grantaire!" Courfeyrac crows, coming fully into the room. Jehan follows behind him, Hemlock cradled in his arms. "You're awake."

"Yessir," Grantaire says with a grin, tipping his head back to look up at Courfeyrac. "And you're just as loud as you were before."

All of the Amis are happy to see Grantaire up and about. It takes Enjolras half an hour to help him to bed because they keep getting stopped; everyone is stoked to see that Grantiare survived a round with Phobia, and they all clap him on the shoulder or ruffle his hair or press kisses to his cheek before letting him go.

He doesn't complain but when Enjolras helps him to the edge of the bed he falls over almost immediately, too weak to keep himself up. Enjolras takes pity on him and helps him put on boxers, refusing to sleep naked with him but finding no other option than clothing the man himself. Grantaire lies still for it, watching Enjolras with heavy eyes.

Enjolras comes and lays down on the other side of the bed and he's fully planning on them sharing a mattress and a blanket and not touching once; but he becomes aware of Grantaire's shivers a minute later, the man doing his best to hide the shaking. He's gripping the bed frame to try not to make it so obvious but Enjolras rolls onto his side with a knowing smile and says, "Come here. I promise I won't bite."

Grantaire is too relieved to argue and he scooches across the bed until he's layered up against Enjolras, who's wearing pretty red pajamas that he now knows are made of silk. Enjolras tentatively wraps an arm around Grantaire's shoulder but when the man just lets out a content sigh against his collar, he tightens the grip.

Grantaire's breathing evens out and he sags in Enjolras' grip, one hand tangled in Enjolras' shirt. He waits and surely enough there is Combeferre, talking quietly as though his voice could wake Grantaire. " _You did a good thing today_ ," he says. " _You know he would have died had you not done all you did_."

Enjolras smiles to himself and Combeferre says, " _Have a good night, Enjolras; you deserve it_."

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey did you see what I did there with the title  
> (yes I am so damn funny)
> 
> sooooo we got introduced to Montparnasse, aka Phobia! he's a total jerk but a fabulous one at that ;)  
> p.s. heathengoddess from tumblr donated the name because she is AMAZING
> 
> so I hustled this update along because I had lots of cutie-patooties from tumblr asking for it and they are as follows: liferuinedbytveit, nippersinkee, austrus, nyrnphadoratonks and anonymous
> 
> btw Montparnasse's powers will be discussed more in the next chapter but he deals in illusions; this is why he's able to enter dreams and pretend to be R's momma. usually it only takes him a few minutes to drain someone but R's power kept kicking in so for Parnasse it was like being at the best damn buffet in the country
> 
> also you guys may be like, why wouldn't they just let Phobia eat all his life force? he can just come back to life  
> WELP Ferre was worried that if Phobia ate all of it that it wouldn't replenish and that if they did nothing R would die like, permanently, which is why everyone was so worried about him c: again this will be more discussed in the next chapter but since I'm not sure when I'll actually be able to write that I wanted to include a note to avoid confusion in the meantime!  
> feel free to ask questions if something is still confusing c:
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest, you're welcome to ask for updates to a 'verse or something specific you'd like to see or whatever!
> 
> kisses to everybody, I hope this chapter pleases you :D


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